


do you ever wonder how many times your life is going to end?

by atlantisairlock



Category: Circle Mirror Transformation - Baker
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), And Now For Something Completely Different, Angst, Based Off The Pangdemonium Version, F/F, Femslash February, Future Fic, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-10 02:05:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3272813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlantisairlock/pseuds/atlantisairlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They meet again, ten years later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	do you ever wonder how many times your life is going to end?

**Author's Note:**

> i watched circle mirror transformation a few days ago and i was really impressed by it, and i'm fascinated by lauren and theresa. inspired by listening to 'speak now' by taylor swift and laying in bed wide awake pondering the play. 
> 
> why did i write this? why? why? why.
> 
> you know two years later i can't even READ THIS FIC ANY MORE because i KNOW selma and adrian read it?! i cringe too much. it's a disaster.

When they were acting, in that class, that one slice of life in the pie… it was Schultz and Lauren, she remembers. Talking about their lives, ten years later. About au revoirs, and arrivedercis, and goodbyes that were never said and never will be. 

 

 

It’s been ten years since Theresa last walked out of that acting class in the Shirley community centre and took the first flight she could book to New York. She’s… in a better place now. Doing small productions, passion projects, that bring her more happiness than any of her lofty dreams once upon a time. And sometimes she thinks about them; how they are. They were a bunch of drastically different people who met by sheer coincidence - maybe fate? - in the most unexpected of places, as equals wherein other situations they might not have been… and after six weeks, once again, their paths diverged.

So it’s strange, then. That she’s having coffee at the cafe near her house and studying a new script that came in through the mail, when someone walks through the door and orders a mocha latte at the counter and _wait a second_ , Theresa knows that voice.

“Lauren?”

When you don’t meet someone for years on end, there’s a mental picture you keep in your head that doesn’t really change. Theresa remembers Lauren as a young girl, just sixteen, still unsure of where she was going in her life, and maybe finding herself in one way or another in their acting class. She remembers brown hair in a ponytail, alternative band tee-shirts and black leggings.

This Lauren... isn’t the one she remembers, but her eyes widen anyway in a sign Theresa understands as recognition. “Theresa? Is that you?”

And she can’t help herself; the smile spreads wide across her face. “Hey! Who would have known I’d run into you here?”

Lauren collects her latte and takes a seat opposite Theresa, sliding into her chair with familiar grace. “Oh my god, it’s so good to see you! It’s been so long - ten years? Yeah? Ten?”

Script forgotten, Theresa stirs her frap a few times with her straw, grinning. “It’s been a while. You look so much older! So grown up!” And so Lauren does; with her hair loose and cascading down her back, donning a crisp pressed blouse paired with dark jeans. Her features have become sharper, more defined, more adult… and yet. She sports a black belt around her hips held together by a silver skull-shaped buckle, and a closer look at her shoelaces reveals that they’re patterned with the words  _love sin hate trust_ , over and over. Theresa releases a breath she hasn’t realised she’s been holding. It’s still the Lauren that she knows, that she remembers, that she -

“So…” Lauren interrupts her train of thought, sips her drink and eyes Theresa. “How’s it been going? With you?” The younger girl smirks, and something jump-starts in Theresa’s heart, so fleeting she almost doesn’t grasp it before the wind whips it away. “Was Schultz’s prediction right? Did you really meet some hot movie star dude and marry him?”

Theresa chuckles despite herself. “No. No hot movie star dude.” A moment of hesitation. “There wasn’t really… anyone after Schultz, actually. I just learned to find happiness without… someone. The key was to be motivated not just by loneliness, you know?" Lauren's nod reassures Theresa that the girl still remembers their secret-sharing, so many years ago. "Or by fear. But to be driven by something greater than that. Something positive. So I chose passion. I still choose it, every day.”

There’s a silence as Lauren traces patterns idly in the condensation on her plastic cup full of coffee. “I always liked that about you, you know.” She says, almost a little shyly. “Your passion. I was really cynical, back when the class first started. For… a lot of reasons. And you were just so…” She gestures, and Theresa nods back to show she’s understood. “You helped me with that, a lot. Really.” 

“Thank you,” Theresa smiles honestly, touched. “And you’re welcome, of course. I’m glad that I helped you, in any small way.”

Is it just her imagination, or does some warped, wretched pain flash across her eyes for a moment? But then it’s gone, and Lauren’s just smiling. “Yeah. Yeah.” 

“So… how about you?” Theresa throws the question back, and just like that, they’re almost back in that acting class again.

 

 

They talk for about two hours. About everything. They finish their coffees and the cups just sit there while they speak. It’s good. But then, all good things have to end. 

“I have to run,” Lauren says apologetically. “I have a flight to catch; I’m here today just to meet someone and then I’m jet-setting again. There's a case with a parrot that I need to attend to.” She giggles at Theresa, in a most teenager-esque way, and Theresa has to smile. “I should be going, too.” 

They walk out of the door together, say their goodbyes, and they begin to walk in opposite directions. Theresa’s taken about ten steps when she hears the unmistakable sound of footfalls against concrete towards her, and she stops, turns to face Lauren, standing in front of her.

“Listen…” Lauren says, her voice hard in a way Theresa can tell is forced. "I always liked you, Theresa. Really."

Theresa frowns, baffled, but deep down there's just this blaze of hope, no matter how foolish it is. "I know, Lauren. I always did, too." It's light and airy and she's stepping around the elephant in the room oh-so-carefully, because it's been ten years and they're older and wiser now and things have changed, and she can't, she can't just - 

Lauren shakes her head in frustration, eyes alight. "No. I mean I always liked you." Lauren says, biting her lip. “Like… I liked you. A lot. I…” Her fingers twist together, and she can’t meet Theresa’s eyes. “I really missed you after the acting classes. And I just… I wanted you to know.” 

And it's just this girl, who's no longer a girl; Theresa remembers the raw ache after she disappeared out of sight, out of the door of the acting class. Remembers missing her, this bright, intelligent, stubborn teenager who grew up while she wasn't watching. Theresa can hear her breath hitch when she steps up to Lauren, fingertips dancing against her chin. She tilts Lauren’s head up so they can look at each other; really look at each other for the first time in a long time.

She’s kissed a lot of people in her life, but nobody’s ever made her feel like… this. With fire pounding through her veins and lightning buzzing down her every nerve ending. They stay like that on the pathway for a while, her arms around Lauren’s waist and Lauren’s hands cupping her face.

When they finally break away, Lauren manages a smile. "You were my first love, you know."

And that makes Theresa grab her wrist with more despair than she thought she was feeling. “Stay,” she whispers, broken and ragged, and fine, so maybe she hasn’t gotten a grasp of that loneliness thing after all. “Book another flight. Stay with me. Don’t go.” It sounds like a repeat of that one week in the class, when she was interacting with Schultz. Only this time she means it. For real.  

Lauren’s hand is gentle on hers. “Oh, Theresa…” Her eyes are soft, liquid, molten as she delicately pries Theresa’s fingers away and lets her arms fall to her side. "I'll call you, okay?"

It's not a rejection, not really, but the electricity between makes the atmosphere so tense she can't breathe. It's a goodbye, of sorts, and Theresa begins to understand that Lauren wasn't offering anything but a confession. There’s a dull ache in her heart, and she wonders if perhaps this is her penance for what happened between her and Schultz, then. But despite the hurt there's a promise in Lauren's words, so Theresa grabs a pen and notepad from her purse and scrawls down her number, passing it to Lauren. “Yeah. Call me sometime. Anytime." 

The younger girl nods, accepting the scrap of paper. "I will," she promises, and writes her number down for Theresa in turn. “I’ll see you.”

And with that, she walks, so much - too much - like that day, ten years back.

 

 

Theresa auditions for the part offered to her in that script that came in the mailbox, and holy shit, she actually gets it, no lie. Suddenly she's on a major stage in a theatre that's both literally and metaphorically bigger than anything she's ever stepped into. The play is a rousing success and she signs her first proper autograph ever at the lobby on opening night. 

And after that, well… she just keeps flying. Here and there and everywhere playing a myriad of roles; she could swear she’s circumnavigated the globe twice over and her frequent flyer miles are off the charts.

A year to the day they met in the coffeeshop, Theresa finds herself on a plane to a production of Rise and Fall of Little Voice outside of the country and Lauren still hasn't called. 

She hasn't stopped hoping she will.

 

 

"Hello?"

"Theresa."

It's ten to midnight and she's got one more tech run to go through before their first matinee, but suddenly that doesn't matter at all. "Lauren!"

She sounds distant, a little fuzzy, like she's calling over a bad signal. "I'm sorry I never called. In two years." She chuckles over the line. "I'm in town, and your face is everywhere. Can I meet the greatest theatre star in New York for coffee after your matinee?"

She doesn't even need to ask.

 

 

Theresa greets her with a hug, and there's the usual buzz about reuniting after two entire years, and they chat about nothing in particular until Theresa's halfway through her coffee and finds the courage to say what she really wants to.

"Lauren," she speaks hesitantly, leaning forward. "Listen, about what you said... then. About us - "

"Oh, I wanted to say," Lauren blurts out over her words, panic obvious in her expression. "I'm getting married."

The world screeches to a halt and Theresa can only blink and watch everything shatter. "Oh."

"Her name is Clarice, and she's wonderful - she's really sweet, and she loves animals, just like me. We met at one of my plays; she was helping out and selling programmes and we just talked." She's falling over herself to talk about her fiancee; Lauren babbles as coherently as she can. "And she makes me happy." Theresa can see her swallowing rapidly, eyes flaring. "She does."

Theresa digs her nails into her palm and forces a plastic smile onto her face. "That's great, Lauren." For a well-known actress who's had major roles in lots of productions, she's failing miserably at acting right now. "I'm glad you found someone. Do I get an invitation?"

Lauren rummages in her bag, avoiding Theresa's eyes. "Yeah, yeah, of course." She presses a thick pastel card into Theresa's hands, rimmed with white lace and embossed in gold. 

"I'll be there," Theresa promises without even opening the card, and Lauren nods. "I know."

 

 

She considers skipping out, of course. She could play the rehearsal card - god knows Theresa's done that often enough for it to come so easily it sounds like the truth. But she doesn't break her promises, especially not to Lauren. Which is why Theresa dresses up that morning, drives down to the park where Clarice and Lauren are holding their garden wedding. It's a cool day, the wind rushing around her ears, and it's perfect. 

Everything is perfect. The decor. The music. Lauren. She's wearing a suit and her tie's a little loose - how typical - and when she sees Theresa she runs right up to her with a smile. "I'm so glad you came."

Theresa nods in recognition, forcing herself to match Lauren's happy expression. "Congratulations, Lauren. I'm so happy for you."

Lauren lowers her head, and when she lifts it again, Theresa's momentarily startled by the change in her expression. It's raw, pained, and Theresa realises why Lauren got the part of Maria for West Side Story and starred in so many more productions after that. "I'm an actress too, Theresa," Lauren says softly, touching her cheek. There's something in her eyes, and it's only when Clarice calls for Lauren to come over to meet one of their guests that Theresa understands what it meant, what Lauren really wants - needs - her to do.

_Stop me._

 

 

The whole wedding is a blur, for no reason other than Theresa spending all of it wrestling with her ethical dilemma. 

She can't stop the wedding. She can't. It would be fundamentally wrong, and it would probably break Clarice's heart. It wouldn't be fair to anyone, least of all Lauren's fiancee soon-to-be-wife. 

But can she really bear to look into Lauren's eyes for the next thirty years if she doesn't? 

"If anyone has reasons why these two should not be married, speak now or forever hold your peace." 

Theresa looks up from the grass beneath her feet, and Clarice and Lauren are at the altar, holding hands and looking out at the crowd, the officiator looking benevolently at them from behind the altar. Lauren has a smile on her face, but she's looking right at Theresa and she can see the anguish hidden behind the facade.

Almost against her volition, Theresa stands. 

Amidst the horrified gasps from the other guests, the confused muttering, she gets out of her seat and walks down to where the couple are standing. She can't breathe; there's fear and guilt wedged in her throat but she has to do this. She has to.

"Lauren." Her voice is steady, confident, resounding; she's an actress. She's an actress, she can act. "You don't love her."

Lauren meets her gaze with a brief nod; she's always been brave, and Theresa respects her courage all the more in this moment. "No."

Anarchy almost breaks out in the crowd, and Clarice takes one step back, fury and bewilderment contorting her expression, but Theresa has to press on, because she's gone too far to stop. "You love me."

There's silence, and for a second Theresa feels a jolt of terror, that perhaps she was wrong, perhaps Lauren's going to turn her away and leave her standing alone looking like the devil in its earthly incarnation, but then she tilts her chin and stares her straight in the eye. "Run."

She could question that. She could furrow her brows and wonder what the hell Lauren's talking about, but Theresa tosses off her heels and runs. She's keenly aware of the soil beneath her soles, the loud chatter behind her, and then, mercifully, Lauren chasing after her, slipping her hand in Theresa's.

They run. 


End file.
